


The Bet

by Leslie_Knope



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, POV Stiles, Police Officer Derek, Police Officer Stiles Stilinski, everyone is pining and everyone is oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 11:51:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9383726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leslie_Knope/pseuds/Leslie_Knope
Summary: “Okay,” Stiles started. He had amonumentallystupid idea, but well, that was kind of his trademark. At least they usually worked out for him. Emphasis onusually. “If I win…you have to go to my ten-year high school reunion next year. As my date.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cobrilee (bstevens1021)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cobrilee+%28bstevens1021%29).



> This is a birthday gift for [Cobrilee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobrilee/pseuds/Cobrilee), one of my best fandom friends (BFFs, if you will). She seemed excited by this idea when I told her about it, and she deserves all the nice things in the world. Tomorrow’s her birthday (the 19th), so [go wish her a happy birthday on Tumblr](http://cobrilee.tumblr.com/)! Happy birthday, love!
> 
> (And if you’re a fan of Brooklyn 99, you will recognize the premise at the beginning! If you aren’t a fan of Brooklyn 99…why haven’t you watched it yet?!)

“I am _totally_ a better cop than you,” Stiles said, punctuating his words with a little hiccup. He set his glass down on the table with a little more force than necessary and squinted at Derek.

Derek just rolled his eyes, though, and smirked around the edge of his beer bottle. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yes!” Stiles said triumphantly. “Me and Erica are better than you and Boyd.”

Erica leaned into Stiles’ shoulder in solidarity, even as she winked at Boyd. “I can’t say that I disagree.”

“Hmm,” Derek said, tilting his head. “How do you feel about backing up that claim? Like, say, with a bet?”

Stiles hesitated. He was pretty much just bullshitting—Derek was a fucking awesome cop, actually—but he couldn’t pass up a bet. “Like what?”

“Most arrests,” Derek said thoughtfully. “Over the next three months.”

He smirked again, and Stiles gulped.

“What are the stakes?”

“Well, if I win, you’ll be doing my paperwork for the next six months,” Derek said, grinning, and Stiles groaned. Erica and Boyd both laughed, and Stiles glared at them. He _hated_ paperwork, from the very depths of his soul, and everyone knew it. He’d been known to offer anything, not limited to covering shitty shifts and giving away his first-born, in exchange for other people doing his paperwork.

“Wait, wait,” he said, the gears in his mind working. “Do I get to pick the stakes if I win?”

Derek shrugged and nodded. “Sure. But we have to agree to them now, and I have the right to refuse. I will not do _anything_ that involves me getting naked,” he added, frowning, and Stiles made a show of rolling his eyes and sighing.

“Okay,” Stiles started. He had a _monumentally_ stupid idea, but well, that was kind of his trademark. At least they usually worked out for him. (Emphasis on _usually_.) “If I win…you have to go to my ten-year high school reunion next year. As my date.”

Derek laughed, a short, staccato burst that even he seemed startled by, and Stiles grinned, unreasonably proud of himself. Derek was definitely the surly, grumpy type, and even after working together for the past two years, Stiles could probably count on one hand the number of laughs he directly provoked. Even with his constant shitty attempts at flirting.

“Okay,” Derek said, still chuckling. “You got it.”

“You two want in on this?” Stiles asked, elbowing Erica. She and Boyd were smiling bashfully at each other—and probably playing footsie under the table, if Stiles had to guess—but it happened so often that he wasn’t fazed by it. They had started officially dating a while ago, which was why she was Stiles’ partner and Boyd was Derek’s.

“Maybe,” she said with a little hum, before her grin turned lascivious. “But our stakes will be private. And sex-based, obviously.”

Boyd blushed, and Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles mimed gagging as he pushed his stool back. “I’m gonna go get another round.”

“Get me something better than this Budweiser shit,” Derek said, poking him in the side, and Stiles shoved at his shoulder.

“Is that how you treat everyone who buys you drinks?” he asked. “No wonder you never get laid.”

Derek rolled his eyes again—his eyes were practically permanently skyward when he was talking to Stiles—and Stiles smirked at him before heading toward the bar. He pushed through the crowd, waiting for the bartender while he dropped his head in his hands with a sigh.

As if Derek had trouble getting laid. He was the most gorgeous person Stiles had ever seen in his entire life, which, sadly, was only a small part of the huge, embarrassing crush that Stiles had on him. It started as physical, obviously, the very second Stiles laid eyes on him, but it only deepened and got worse as Stiles realized that he was hilarious, smart, sweet, and all those other adjectives that people use to describe people they’re in love with.

He barely refrained from thunking his forehead on the bar, as a punishment for his own stupidity. And now he had three months to arrest more perps than Derek, just so that he could drag him across the country and pretend to be his boyfriend. Which would either end up being the dumbest or most ingenious idea he’d ever had.

His money was on the _dumbest_.

* * *

“45!” Stiles crowed, practically skipping across the squad room to the big whiteboard in the corner. “How’s that defeat tasting, _Detective_ Hale? Is it nice and bitter?”

Derek crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Stiles as he erased the 44 that was under his name in the corner where they were keeping track of their bet. “It’s not over yet.”

“You’re right,” Stiles conceded. “But there’s only one day left, and I’m up by two. And don’t go doing anything shady to bump your numbers up, that’s against the rules.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”

Yeah, that one was a stretch. Derek was the definition of a by-the-book cop, and he was probably the most ethical person Stiles knew. Stiles, on the other hand…Stiles was ethical, definitely, but he’d been known to bend the rules in the spirit of justice.

“I’ve already told everyone about you, anyway,” Stiles said as he plopped down in his desk chair. Derek turned around slowly to frown at him.

“What.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said loftily, rolling closer and propping his feet up on Derek’s desk. Unsurprisingly, he was promptly shoved off. “I replied with a plus-one to the reunion, and I’ve been chatting all about you on the event Facebook page. And my dad knows, of course. I mean, he isn’t _thrilled_ that I’m dating another cop, but he’ll get over it.”

Derek gritted his teeth. “And what if you _don’t_ win? What happens then? Besides doing my paperwork for the next six months, that is.”

“Oh, I’ll just tell everyone that you cheated on me. Already got the sob story all worked out.”

“So I’m the loser in _every_ scenario,” Derek said drily, and Stiles grinned.

“Now you’re getting it, babe.”

* * *

“C’mon, snookums!” Stiles called out from the open window of the cab, and Derek gave him the driest, pissiest look he’d ever been on the receiving end of. And considering that he’d worked with Derek for two years, that was saying a lot.

He opened the door and tossed his duffel bag at Stiles, who caught it with an _oof_. “I don’t like snookums.”

“God, what do you have in here, honey bear? Bricks?”

Derek sighed, as if he was reevaluating all of his life choices, and snatched it back from Stiles’ grip. “You gave me literally zero details about this trip. I had to pack clothing options.”

“You are the best boyfriend ever,” Stiles said with an overwrought sigh, grinning at Derek’s glare. “And you didn’t protest _honey bear_ , so that’s your official nickname for the weekend. Congratulations.”

Wow, the vein on Derek’s temple was already throbbing. Stiles thought they would surely make it onto the plane, at least, before that came out.

“Fine,” he gritted out. “Then you’re my snugglebug.”

Derek looked pretty proud of himself for that one, but Stiles just grinned. “Aw, honey bear, I like that one,” he said, laughing at Derek’s murderous glare. “You can’t out-cute me, don’t even bother trying.”

“You are so infuriating.”

Derek huffed and looked pointedly out the window, so Stiles just slipped his earbuds in and tapped along with the beat on his knees. He really had no idea how this weekend was gonna go, especially since Derek didn’t seem overjoyed to be there. He’d actually taken pity on Derek—it must have been the eyes, Derek could do really sad eyes when he wanted to—and said the other day that if he _really_ didn’t want to go, they could work something else out. But Derek had just rolled his eyes and grumbled something about how “a bet is a bet, Stiles.”

Derek snatched the earbuds out of his ears, making him squeak. “Holy shit, what?”

“You were singing along,” he said, pulling the earbuds out of Stiles’ iPhone and stuffing them into his own pocket. Stiles stuck his tongue out at him, and Derek just smirked back.

He did take both their bags, though, when they got out of the cab, and he paid the driver before Stiles could even reach for his wallet. Stiles had to hurry to catch up with him, actually, but he couldn’t complain about the view.

The security line wasn’t too long, thankfully, and Stiles grinned when it was their turn. “We’re on our honeymoon, can’t you tell?” he asked the TSA agent brightly. He elbowed Derek, who grunted.

“Yes, so in love,” he said, dry as a bone, and the woman gave them an unimpressed look.

“Congratulations,” she said, just as flatly. “IDs, please.”

Stiles scanned both of their boarding passes on his phone, but before Stiles could put his ID back in his wallet, Derek snatched it from his hand and hurried ahead into the second line. “Hey!” he snapped, running after him, but Derek wrapped a strong arm around his waist and held on tight.

“Don’t make a scene in security,” he said lowly, right in his ear, and Stiles swallowed. He stilled obediently, but that was probably due to the feel of Derek’s big arm against him rather than the threat. “Nice to meet you, Mieczyslaw.”

“Oh, fuck you,” he whispered as he took his ID back from Derek and put it away. “And you did _not_ pronounce it right, just FYI.”

“It’s just part of the research,” he said innocently. “Your family would probably assume that I would know it.”

Stiles snorted. “Oh, no, they would not.”

Derek smirked at him, and even though it was at his expense, Stiles grinned back.

The flight was uneventful. Derek claimed the aisle seat, which was to be expected, and Stiles frankly found it adorable the way he tensed up when they started taxiing.

“Is the big bad cop scared of _flying_?” he whispered, and Derek glared at him.

“No. I just—I don’t like taking off. It feels weird.”

“Don’t worry, honey bear, it’s gonna be fine,” Stiles said as he rested his hand over Derek’s, which was gripping the armrest. Derek rolled his eyes, but he loosened his fist and allowed Stiles to slip their fingers together.

Once they leveled out, Derek relaxed and reached down into his bag to pull out a book. “So you’ve been suspiciously shady about the details of this trip. Are you sure this isn’t some kind of nefarious plot?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “ _Yes_ , there really is a reunion. Tomorrow night.”

“And why do you seem so concerned about it?”

Stiles huffed. He hated how quickly Derek could read him. “It’s embarrassing,” he said, hesitating. “Promise not to make fun of me?”

“Absolutely not,” Derek said easily, and Stiles couldn’t hold back the snort that escaped.

“Fine, you ass. I, uh…I wasn’t so popular in high school, you know? Skinny, kinda dorky-looking, everyone thought I was weird. I just—just thought it’d be good to come back, right, and show off how successful I am. Sorry,” he said, cursing the splotchy blush he could feel on his cheeks. “Now that I say it out loud, it sounds really dumb.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Derek said, gentler than Stiles was expecting. “I didn’t have the best time in high school, either.”

Stiles gave him a flat look and a very pointed onceover.

“I was a late bloomer!” Derek protested. “I was skinny and kind of awkward, and I had big ears.”

“Really?”

“Really. I mean, there’s no way you’re getting photographic evidence or anything, but yeah.”

“So then what’d you do at your ten-year reunion? That was like, 20 years ago, right?” he asked, grinning, and Derek rolled his eyes.

“It was _four_ years ago, you asshole,” he said, not-so-accidentally elbowing Stiles in the ribs as he shifted his weight. “And I just didn’t go.”

Stiles tilted his head. “Really?” he asked. “You didn’t have any desire to show off how far you’ve come?”

“Not really,” Derek said, shrugging. “I’m not close with anyone from high school, and I really just don’t care about what they think anymore.”

“Very mature of you, Detective Hale,” he said dryly, and Derek very pointedly opened his book.

* * *

They found their rental car at the airport, a plain silver Jetta, and Stiles pointedly took the keys from Derek’s hand.

“I listed myself as the only driver,” he said sweetly, and Derek frowned at him as he tossed their bags in the back and dropped sullenly into the passenger seat. “Could you look up directions to the hotel? I’m _pretty sure_ I know where it is, but still. It’s the Hampton Inn in Beacon City.”

“Sure,” he said, lifting his hips up to dig his phone out. “We’re not staying with your dad?”

“Scott—you remember Scott, right?” Stiles asked, and Derek nodded. “He and his wife and their kid are in town for the reunion, too, and they got dibs on staying with the grandparents. I figured it’d be a full house, so we’re in a hotel. We’re having dinner over there tonight, though.”

“Their daughter is…almost one, right?” Derek asked, and Stiles looked over at him, surprised.

“Yeah. How the hell do you remember that?”

He shrugged, looking out the window. “You were really excited when she was born. We all saw a lot of pictures.”

Stiles swallowed and nodded, suddenly remembering that he was gonna have to see Derek interact with a _baby_. Jesus. “I never thought I’d have nieces and nephews, you know, as an only child, so I’m pretty excited. Thank god for stepsiblings.”

“Laura’s thinking of adopting,” Derek offered, and Stiles grinned.

“Really? That’s so awesome. You’d be a great uncle, you can practice this weekend.”

Derek rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “It’s the next exit.”

There was a short line in the hotel lobby, and Stiles made Derek wait with their luggage while he checked in. “We had a few reservation mix-ups, and all we have left is king rooms,” the woman said brightly, after Stiles gave her his name. “Is that okay?”

Stiles gritted his teeth. Yeah, forced bed sharing was _exactly_ what he needed to make this weekend even more hopeless. “Sure, whatever.”

The room was nice, at least, and Derek dropped his duffel bag on the right side of the bed. “I sleep on this side of the bed. And if you kick in your sleep, you’ll be sleeping on the floor.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, then laughed when Derek opened one of the dresser drawers. “Oh my god, are you one of those people who _unpacks_ in a hotel room?”

“Wait, let me guess, you’re one of those people who _doesn’t_.”

“We’re only here for two nights!”

“And at least my clothes won’t be wrinkled,” he said pointedly, hanging up a button-down shirt. “How long til we have to leave for dinner?”

Stiles looked over his shoulder at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “About an hour. Dibs on first shower!” he added quickly, grinning when Derek frowned. “Aw, don’t be sad, honey bear. In fact, in the name of water conservation, we could actually—”

Stiles got the bathroom door closed just in time, before the shoe that Derek threw at him could make contact.

They managed to get ready without killing each other—though there was a close call with Stiles’ wet towel on the bathroom floor—and on the drive over to dinner, Derek looked adorably nervous.

“John and Melissa, right?” he asked, and Stiles nodded.

“Dude, relax. It’s gonna be fine.”

“Easy for you to say,” he shot back. “I have to pretend that I actually like you.”

“Ooh, burn,” Stiles said easily. “You love me, don’t lie.”

Derek scoffed. “I _never_ lie.”

“Well, you better learn to fake it in the next five minutes.”

Stiles knocked on the front door sharply, even though he still had a key on his key ring, and John opened it, grinning. “So the big city cops have come to little ol’ Beacon Hills,” he said, and Stiles huffed a little laugh.

“Hey, Dad,” he said, wrapping his arms around him for a hug. John squeezed him hard, and Stiles swallowed. Man, he missed his dad. He pulled back, blinking quickly, and gestured behind him. “This is Derek.”

“Hello, Sheriff,” Derek said politely, holding his hand out. John took it and used it to tug him further into the house.

“Call me John, son. Good to meet you.”

“Melissa, my love!” Stiles called out, walking into the living room to wrap his arms around her and press a kiss to her cheek. He hugged Scott—it was always good to see him in person, even though they FaceTimed at least once a week—and Allison, and introduced them quickly to Derek before his attention was diverted by his niece.

“How my little Anna Banana?” he cooed, taking her easily from Allison’s arms. He kissed the tip of her nose and grinned when she babbled at him, reaching out one of her hands. “You probably don’t remember me, but I’m your favorite uncle. Don’t forget that, okay?”

“You’re her only—”

“Don’t even say it, Scotty,” he interrupted. “Let me have my moment with my favorite niece.”

“What if _I_ wanna be her favorite uncle?” Derek asked, and Stiles gasped, holding Anna closer.

“ _Never_. Try to take her from me, I dare you.”

Scott was grinning, and he clapped Derek on the shoulder. “I like this guy. Hand over the baby, Stiles.”

Stiles groaned but obediently let Derek take Anna from him. He caught one glimpse of Derek making a funny face at her and then immediately spun on his heel to go flee toward the kitchen.

He helped his dad set the table, and Derek showed up—baby-free, thankfully—just in time to fill all the water glasses.

“So how’s the hotel?” John asked.

“Just fine. Not gonna lie, I’m a little offended that you opened the inn to these guys and not us,” Stiles said, smirking, and John rolled his eyes.

“Actually, gotta say, I’m kinda glad you aren’t staying here.”

Stiles put a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “Wound me, why don’t you. Why?”

“New relationship, right? These walls are thin, kiddo,” he said with a little wink, and Stiles groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“ _Dad_ ,” he hissed. “Oh my god.”

John clapped him on the shoulder. “I have lifelong embarrassment privileges, son,” he said solemnly, and Stiles sighed.

He snuck a look at Derek, who was pointedly looking in the other direction and pretending that he wasn’t listening. The tips of his ears were red, though, and for some reason that made Stiles feel better.

He avoided such blatant parental embarrassment for the rest of dinner, thankfully, though it was a close call when John started talking about baby pictures. Stiles was able to successfully distract him with an extra slice of pie, though, as well as with an _actual_ baby, which seemed to suffice.

They ate until they were stuffed, and even though Stiles had to turn away every time Derek held Anna—which was a lot, considering that the kid was borderline obsessed with Derek’s beard—it was a very pleasant evening. He and Derek didn’t get asked too many questions about their relationship, and they were able to easily dodge the ones that did come up.

Eventually, they said their goodbyes, and Derek pried the keys to the rental car out of Stiles’ hand. He went along with it because he was in a pretty good mood, but he still turned the radio to a top 40 station, just to piss Derek off.

“They’re nice,” Derek said finally, when they were almost back at the hotel.

“Who, Dad and Melissa?” Stiles asked, and Derek nodded. “Yeah, they’re great.”

“You’re, uh, you’re lucky to have them,” he said lowly, and Stiles felt like an _idiot_. He himself still sometimes felt a little sad around mom-type figures, and he was sure it was even worse for Derek, with both of his parents gone.

Stiles wouldn’t be able to say anything right now without putting his foot in his mouth, probably, so he settled for reaching over and giving Derek’s bicep a firm squeeze. Derek shot him a tiny smile in response, he was pretty sure, but then they pulled into the parking lot and it was gone.

Stiles yawned as they made their way to their room, and he didn’t even protest when Derek took the bathroom first. He changed into his PJs and then almost choked when he saw Derek, clad in a white tank top and plaid pajama pants that were just a little bit too long.

He escaped into the bathroom to brush his teeth and give himself a pep talk in the mirror. _You_ cannot _get an erection when you are sharing a bed with a friend_ , he told himself firmly, _because it’s creepy as fuck_.

Derek was already in bed when he came out, on the right side as promised, and Stiles tried to quietly get in on his side. He had been hoping for a little clichéd accidental spooning, if he was being honest, but king beds really _were_ big. It seemed like there was a canyon of space between them, and Derek didn’t even budge when Stiles flipped around a few times, trying to find a comfortable position.

“Do you mind if I turn the TV on?” he whispered. “Helps me fall asleep.”

“Sure,” Derek murmured back, his eyes already closed. “Just keep it low.”

He flipped until he found an old Friends rerun, then closed his eyes at the familiar laugh track. Derek’s steady breaths were soothing, and Stiles fell asleep much quicker than he normally did.

* * *

The next day was admittedly, one of the best days in Stiles’ recent memory. _Even though_ Derek dragged him out at the ass crack of dawn—eight a.m., same thing—for a run. Afterward, they ate the hotel’s complimentary breakfast in bed and watched cartoons, which Derek only “allowed” because Stiles found the channel and then sat on the remote. They wandered around Beacon Hills, mostly so that Stiles could show off his old adolescent haunts, and had a late lunch with his dad and Melissa.

Worst of all, it felt painfully real. Stiles could all-too-clearly see how Derek could fit into his life like this, and he was starting to get way too comfortable with it. It was a weird mix of wonderful and torturous, depending how much he was thinking about reality.

At the moment, he was a little bit tipsy from the two beers he had and a whole lot giddy. As soon as they got off the hotel elevator, Stiles jumped on Derek’s back and wrapped his arms around his neck. Derek caught him by the thighs, even though he staggered with a dramatic groan, and kept walking down the hallway toward their room.

“My honey bear,” Stiles said, smacking a loud kiss to Derek’s cheek. Derek tensed all of a sudden and straightened up, causing Stiles to slide off his back and stumble into the wall.

He frowned and rubbed his elbow. “Ow. What the hell is your problem?”

“You’re treating this like a joke,” he spat, and Stiles froze. Derek really did seem pissed, but—

“But it _is_ a joke,” he said slowly. “We aren’t dating.”

Derek’s scowl deepened even more. “I’m well-aware of that fact, believe me. But it’s been two years, Stiles, so don’t you think this is a little cruel?”

“What the hell?” Stiles asked. He took a step forward, against his better judgement, and Derek immediately backed away. “Dude, why are you freaking out of a sudden?”

“Fuck you,” he snapped. “I’m not going tonight.”

Stiles stared at him, gaping, but Derek just huffed and spun on his heel, heading off back toward the elevator.

“Wait, _what’s_ been two years?” he yelled after him, but Derek didn’t even react.

Stiles blinked—he was pretty sure he’d never been more confused in his entire life. He thought for a minute about following Derek, but he was clearly pissed and would probably appreciate being left alone for a few minutes.

So with a sigh, Stiles kept going toward their room and let himself in. He tried to keep himself busy for a little while, reading a book on his Kindle and watching a few episodes of House Hunters, but Derek didn’t come back. Stiles’ texts went unanswered, and Derek’s phone kept going straight to voicemail.

Finally, Stiles had to start getting ready for the reunion, but as he got up to take a shower, he remembered that Derek still had the car keys. He groaned audibly and texted Scott, asking if he could be picked up at the hotel before dinner. They’d originally planned to meet at the restaurant before the reunion, but Stiles didn’t have high hopes that Derek was going to show up.

Stiles dawdled as he got ready, still hoping that Derek would just pop up somewhere, but even as he slowly made his way out of the hotel, there was no sight of him.

Scott and Allison were in Melissa’s car, and Stiles slid into the backseat.

“What’s wrong?” Scott asked, looking at him over the back of the seat. “Where’s Derek?”

Stiles rubbed at his cheek, not sure how much he should divulge. “We, uh, we got into a fight. I don’t think he’s coming.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, dude,” he said, his face sympathetic. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” he said, with a little chuckle that sounded fake even to his ears.

“Well, I’m sure you two’ll work it out,” Scott said cheerfully, sliding back into his familiar optimistic mood. “It’s so obvious that he really likes you.”

Stiles swallowed. “It’s…wait, what? Seriously?”

Scott gave him a little _well, duh_ look. “Yeah. You can tell by how he looks at you.”

“How, uh, how does he look at me?” he asked, clenching his fist in his dress pants.

“Like you fuckin’ hung the moon, dude. He’s _always_ looking at you.”

Stiles realized that he probably shouldn’t look so surprised by this revelation, so he just smiled weakly and tried to forget about it.

He couldn’t, though, not through a drink at the bar and then dinner and then the drive over to the high school. He trailed behind Scott and Allison as they made their way through the parking lot, admittedly sulking, and only looked up when Allison nudged him and jerked her chin toward the front door.

There were a lot of people going in, but Stiles’ gaze immediately locked on Derek, leaning against the wall by the door with his hands in his pockets and a surly expression on his face.

“Wow, he looks good,” Allison whispered, and Stiles could only nod around the lump in his throat. Derek looked fucking _amazing_ , in dark gray pants and a vest, a lighter gray shirt underneath with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He even had a _tie_ on, and Stiles honestly felt a little light-headed.

Scott and Allison politely veered off when they got to the door, with little smiles and nods at Derek, and Stiles stepped right up to him.

“Hi,” he said softly. “I’m so—”

“You won the bet,” Derek said, his face carefully blank. “So I’m here.”

Stiles grimaced, even though he wasn’t even sure why—that was the scenario, after all—and nodded. “Uh, okay. Let’s go, then.”

He reached for Derek’s elbow but immediately snatched his hand back when Derek flinched. Shit.

Overall, it was…not the best. The gym was decorated nicely, but it was still the Beacon Hills High _gym_ , a place Stiles had never really wanted to return to. Didn’t most schools have their reunions in nicer venues?

Stiles caught up with the few classmates that he actually wanted to talk to and made small talk with several other people that he didn’t give a shit about. All in all, it was pretty underwhelming, and Stiles was feeling quite stupid for even coming in first place. Derek seemed to have the right idea when he skipped his reunion.

Speaking of Derek, he seemed to be getting tenser by the minute, and soon Stiles couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hey,” he whispered, leaning in so Derek could hear him. “Could we go talk for a minute?”

Derek stared at him for a second and then seemed to deflate in front of his eyes. “Fine.”

He took Derek’s hand gingerly and led him out the side door to the parking lot. It was a little chilly, and Stiles stuffed his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders a bit.

“Okay, dude,” he started, “I want to apologize, _believe me_ , but I honestly have no idea what I did. Can you please tell me why you’re upset?”

Derek groaned and twisted away, dragging one hand through his hair. “Are you serious right now? You’re actually gonna make me say it?”

“Considering that I have _no_ idea what you’re talking about, yes!”

“I like you, okay?” he said lowly. “And I have ever since I met you, basically.”

Stiles gaped at him—like, with a full-on, completely unattractive mouth-open-and-eyes-wide facial expression—and for the first time in his life, he had no idea what to say.

Derek continued, though. “I know you don’t—don’t return my feelings, which is _fine_ , but this is a little much, Stiles. Being mean isn’t your style.”

“What?” he yelped, surprised at the pitch of his own voice. “Are you serious? I had no idea!”

Derek just looked at him, clearly suspicious, and crossed his arms over his chest. “You _really_ didn’t know?” he asked, his eyebrows raised, and Stiles shook his head emphatically.

“ _No_. Nein. Non.”

“But you’re a detective!”

“And apparently I’m a really shitty one!” he shouted. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Of _course_ I’m being serious,” Derek hissed. “How did you not _know_? You are the only person that I ever really talk to, and you are the only person that I _let_ annoy me. Because for some godforsaken reason, I actually like it.”

Stiles blinked. “Oh my god,” he said faintly, pressing the back of his hand against his forehead like some kind of Victorian maiden. “I really am an idiot.”

Derek scoffed and started to turn away, but Stiles grabbed his elbow. “Hey, hey, wait. How in the _world_ could you think that I don’t like you back? I mean, we’re talking about a crush of embarrassing proportions here, dude. I flirt with you _all_ the time.”

Derek bit his lip. “I—but you flirt with practically anything that moves.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, swallowing, “but that doesn’t _mean_ anything. You must have noticed that I haven’t really dated anyone in the past two years, and that’s because I’ve been hung up on _you_.”

“What…why didn’t you say anything?”

“I had no idea if you were interested in men or women or anyone!” Stiles exclaimed. “You never mentioned anything about ever liking anyone. And I, uh, I didn’t want to risk our relationship at work. I really like working with you, dude.”

“I really like working with you, too,” Derek admitted, and Stiles allowed himself a tiny smile. He _knew_ it.

“So you like me,” he said slowly, and Derek had that constipated look on his face, but he nodded, “and I like you. So—”

“Wait, hang on, let me get this straight,” Derek said, crossing his arms over his chest. It was an impressive look, and Stiles let himself enjoy it for a couple seconds. “You liked me, and you thought I _didn’t_ like you. Yet you dragged me here to pose as your fake boyfriend for a weekend. So you could, what, torture yourself?”

Stiles winced. “Uh, basically. It was, admittedly, not my best plan. It worked, though!” he finished triumphantly, and Derek rolled his eyes.

“Good one,” he said dryly, and Stiles socked him in the shoulder.

Silence settled over them for a second, and Stiles cleared his throat. “Well, apparently you never age out of having dramatic arguments in a high school parking lot,” he said, and Derek cracked a tiny smile.

“Do you want to go back in there?” he asked, holding out his hand, and Stiles stared at it for a minute.

“No, actually, I don’t,” he said eventually, and he grinned when Derek’s brow wrinkled. “I want to go back to the hotel and fuck your brains out.”

Derek blinked, and Stiles thoroughly enjoyed the play of emotions on his face. “No,” he said finally, and Stiles’ jaw dropped.

“Wha…oh, we can totally do it the other way around!” he said quickly. “That was just a, you know, a metaphor. I’m super flexible. Literally and figuratively.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “No, we’re going back inside and not leaving until this dumb thing is over,” he said, grabbing Stiles’ hand and hauling him back toward the door. “Consider it punishment.”

“Punishment for what?” he asked, stumbling along behind him.

“For being so fucking _stupid_ ,” he said, and Stiles nodded slowly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I suppose that’s fair.”

* * *

If Stiles thought being with Derek was bad before, it was pure _torture_ now. Derek was handsy and affectionate and charming, and Stiles couldn’t stop staring at him. He even asked Stiles to _dance_ , when some slow Sinatra song was playing.

“This is punishment for you, too, you know,” he hissed, and Derek pulled him closer with a dirty smirk.

“I’ve been waiting for _two years_ ,” he said lowly into Stiles’ ear. “A few more hours isn’t going to kill me.”

Stiles had to valiantly hold in a whimper. “Uh, well, I’m pretty sure it’s gonna kill _me_.”

“Oh, believe me,” Derek said, his hand sliding down Stiles’ back to give his ass a quick squeeze. “I have a vested interest in keeping you alive.”

Stiles groaned and knocked their temples together gently. After a minute, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry that I made you feel bad,” he said softly. “I was just—I figured this was all I would ever get, you know? But I can see how that would seem like a total dick move if you thought I knew about your feelings. That must’ve felt really shitty.”

“It did,” Derek said wryly, and Stiles squeezed his hand a little harder.

“Can I make it up to you in orgasms?”

“It would be a start,” he admitted.

Stiles wiggled in Derek’s grip. “Okay, then can we please leave? Please, please, please. As you can see, I am _so_ not above begging.”

“Does that extend to the bedroom, too?” he whispered, and Stiles bit his lip.

“Maybe if you play your cards right. C’mon, let’s go.”

Derek let himself be dragged outside, but he shook his head with a frown when Stiles’ eyes lit up at the sight of the car. His thoughts must have been showing on his face because Derek spoke up immediately.

“No, don’t even think about it. I am _not_ having sex with you for the first time in a car. Let alone a rental car that has that horrible fake new car smell,” he said, wrinkling his nose, and Stiles grinned.

“So you’re saying that you _would_ have sex with me in the Camaro?”

Derek rolled his eyes and shoved him gently toward the passenger seat. “Just get in the fucking car.”

“But where’s your sense of adventure?” Stiles asked, shaking his shoulder with a grin. “We could continue the high school theme.”

“We are _police officers_. Your dad probably knows all the make out spots, anyway, and he might arrest us just to make a point. Regardless, we’d never live it down.”

“Okay, solid point,” Stiles admitted, dropping down into the seat. “Then drive us, Jeeves.”

“Keep that up and you can have sex by _yourself_ tonight.”

* * *

The trip back to the hotel felt like a dream. Stiles was practically quivering with anticipation, and he couldn’t believe that this was actually happening, that they were really doing this.

But as he shut their room door behind Derek, the click of the deadbolt flipped a switch in his brain and shocked him back into reality. As was his custom, he took a breath and then started babbling.

“Oh my god, is it gonna be awkward now? Holy shit, are we—”

Before he could even get the sentence out, Derek pushed him up against the wall next to the door and pressed their mouths together. The kiss was fairly chaste, actually, considering their position and the way Derek had both hands clenched in Stiles’ shirt, but it was so tender that all the nervousness seeped out of Stiles.

He leaned forward a little, deepening the kiss while he brought his arms up around Derek’s back, and Derek audibly exhaled as he sagged back against Stiles.

Stiles pulled away when the need for oxygen made his head swim, but they were still so close that when he licked his own lips, he caught Derek’s, too. “Okay,” he rasped, clearing his throat. “Nope, not awkward.”

“Shut up,” Derek murmured against his lips, and Stiles laughed before dragging him back in for a proper kiss.

“Never,” he said a minute later, after he managed to get Derek’s shirt out of his pants and his hands on the gloriously warm skin of his back. “It’s part of my charm, don’t even try to deny it.”

Derek huffed, and Stiles was pretty sure he caught the glimpse of an eye roll, but since he kept raining kisses down his neck, he wasn’t too worried about it.

“Do you talk in bed, too?”

“I, uh…I can’t fucking talk at _all_ right now, god,” he stuttered, tilting his neck in an attempt to steer Derek back toward his ear. Derek obeyed, and Stiles moaned, thrusting his hips toward Derek’s clumsily. “Why, is that—is that something that you like?”

“When it’s you, yeah. I’ve thought about it.”

Stiles clenched his eyes shut. He couldn’t believe how matter-of-fact Derek was while talking about this, and how fucking hot that was. “I…I’m already on the edge, fuck,” he said, letting out a little breathless laugh. “God, this is embarrassing. This isn’t gonna last long.”

“Can you get it up again?” Derek asked, punctuating his words with more kisses while his big hands pressed Stiles’ hips against the door.

The answer was yes, but even if it usually wasn’t, he was pretty sure that tonight would be an exception. He said as much, and Derek smirked while dropping to his knees.

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

“You, uh, you totally should, holy _shit_ ,” he said, his voice going up at the end as Derek unfastened his pants, running his thumb up the line of Stiles’ dick through the fabric of his briefs.

“This okay?” Derek asked, not waiting for an answer before he dragged his lower lip up the length of it to the head, licking through the cotton.

“Oh my _god_ , yes, holy mother of fuck,” Stiles said. The words practically fell out of his mouth as he shoved his underwear down, and he lost his balance, ending up on his knees in front of Derek. That had its advantages, though, and Stiles immediately started in on the infuriatingly tiny buttons of Derek’s vest.

“It’s difficult for me to suck your dick when you’re _also_ on your knees,” Derek whispered, and Stiles laughed, a little hysterically.

“Just help me get your fucking shirt off, then I’ll do whatever you want.”

Four hands really weren’t much more efficient that two, it turned out, but finally Stiles got to push all that fabric off Derek’s broad shoulders, sliding his hands down his arms.

He stood back up, very carefully, and bit back a groan when Derek immediately pushed him back against the wall and leaned in. The scrape of his beard was _tingly_ , and Stiles inhaled sharply. He wasn’t sure if he was gonna survive this.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Derek murmured. Holy shit, did Stiles say that out loud?

He didn’t have much time to worry about it, though, because when Derek sucked the head of his dick into his mouth, he ceased pretty much all higher-level cognitive functions. “Fuck,” he breathed. He knew that he should probably close his eyes, filter out some of the sensory input in an attempt to last longer, but Derek looked so fucking good that Stiles felt the need to memorize it, just in case he never got this again.

Derek was pulling exactly no punches, and Stiles was a little mortified by how quickly he reached the state where he was just holding onto Derek’s hair and practically sobbing. “God, Derek I’m gonna—”

Derek sucked hard for a few seconds, swiping his tongue lightning-fast just under the head, before pulling back and replacing his mouth with his hand. He licked his lips, swiping up the extra spit with his free thumb, and that was the last straw for Stiles.

He tightened his fingers in Derek’s hair—he’d probably have to apologize for that later, oops—and let out a little hoarse cry as he doubled over and came all over Derek’s hand. He was babbling something, he was pretty sure, and slowly sliding toward the floor on utterly useless legs. But Derek smoothly stood up and propped Stiles against the wall with his weight.

“Fuck,” Stiles said again, surging forward to press their mouths together. Derek’s lips were hot, and Stiles couldn’t suppress the urge to bite down on the lower one. It was sloppy and graceless, with the both of them panting, and eventually it trailed off to sweet, short pecks. Stiles leaned against the wall and tried to get his breath back while Derek slowly undressed him. “Thank you.”

“ _Thank you_?” he repeated, giving Stiles a flat look as he pushed his own pants down. “Seriously?”

“Okay, first of all, social conventions say that you’re supposed to respond with _you’re welcome_ , you heathen. And second of all, I’m pretty sure my brain leaked out my ears, so I’m not really working with very much over here.”

Derek snorted and pulled them both over toward the bed. Stiles stumbled a little, but he was mostly capable of walking under his own power. “You’re welcome,” he said with a smug smirk, and Stiles just glared at him while pushing him back down onto the bed.

Derek went easily, landing on his elbows, and Stiles clambered on top of him, groaning. It was _so_ much better now that they were both naked, and he just laid there for a minute, enjoying the warm press of skin, until Derek grabbed his hair and tilted his head to kiss him. Stiles deepened the kiss, groaning into it when he felt the hard line of Derek’s dick against his stomach, and he moved his thigh to give Derek something to grind against.

This was pretty hot, Stiles wasn’t gonna lie, smothering Derek with his weight and forcing him to rut up against his leg, but he had better ideas. He pulled away with one smacking kiss and scooted backward until he was kneeling on the bed between Derek’s legs. Those cuts of his hips had taunted him many times in the past, so he leaned down to mouth at them while he looked up at Derek.

“Can I?”

Derek swallowed visibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Please. I’ve, uh, I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“Oh, yeah?” Stiles asked, unable to _not_ grin at that. Derek rolled his eyes and knocked Stiles’ shoulder with his knee, but he was smiling, too.

“Shut up.”

“Ah, so is that it?” he said, licking a solitary stripe up the side. “You fantasize about shutting me up with your dick?”

Derek shook his head. “Like, uh, like your voice,” he said, and Stiles was unbearably proud of the fact that he’d already reduced him to partial sentences. He was suddenly really, really invested in getting Derek to make some noise, so he took a deep breath and pulled out every trick he knew.

Derek didn’t disappoint, and the little grunts and whimpers he was letting out were going a long way to get Stiles’ dick interested again. He shifted his weight around, accidentally face-planting on Derek’s hip only once, so that he could palm his own dick with his free hand.

Derek seemed to like that, if the increased volume was any indication, and Stiles doubled his efforts with his mouth. He couldn’t quite deepthroat, but he could get kinda close, and Derek seemed to appreciate it nonetheless. His fingers were twisted in Stiles’ hair, and each little tug sent a tingle down Stiles’ spine straight to his dick.

“Goddamn it, Stiles, I’m gonna come,” Derek gasped. “Please—”

“Please what?” Stiles pulled off to say, slowing the motion of his hand. Derek fell back against the pillows with a mournful groan, and Stiles pressed his lips together to hide a smile.

“Please _keep going_ , you dick,” he bit out.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to—oh, _fuck_.”

Stiles wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and thoroughly enjoyed watching Derek come all over his hand and his own stomach, curling up and to the side a little. He sat back on his heels and stroked himself, just watching Derek and the heaving of his chest, the slight clench of his abs, as he came down and slowly relaxed. Dazed and fucked-out was a good look on him, and Stiles bit back a groan.

“Are you close?” Derek murmured, and Stiles made a noise that hopefully sounded like a _yes_. “What do you want?”

“I want—I just want your hand, god.”

Derek sat up, reaching for Stiles to rearrange them, and Stiles let himself go boneless. He ended up between Derek’s legs, back to chest while Derek leaned up against the headboard. “Fuck,” he groaned, tipping his head back. “It’s so hot that you can haul me around.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, watching avidly as Derek’s hand slowly skated up his thigh. “Oh, god, please.”

“Please what?”

Stiles snorted and spread his legs, bending his knees a bit to let his thighs fall over Derek’s. “Of course you’re a tease.”

Derek hummed thoughtfully and trailed his fingers up the crease of Stiles’ thigh. “You still haven’t really told me what you want, so I don’t think it counts as teasing.”

“I. Want you. To make me _come_ ,” he said clearly, and Derek snorted a little in his ear. He didn’t really change course, though, and just kept touching him lightly, although at least he was getting closer to his dick. “Hey, c’mon, I told you,” Stiles said, whining a little as he squirmed.

“Oh, _now_ I’m just teasing.”

Stiles groaned, and he felt the curve of Derek’s smile against his neck. He’d had a lot of thoughts about having sex with Derek—like a _lot_ , like practically every time he jerked off—but he never imagined that it would be so playful.

Finally, blessedly, Derek licked his hand and then wrapped it around Stiles’ dick. Stiles tensed and gripped Derek’s thigh, probably hard enough to leave bruises, but he didn’t hear any complaining. Stiles exhaled carefully, trying to remember how to breathe properly, and stared at Derek’s hand on him, his index finger and thumb kind of curling around the head with every torturously slow stroke.

Stiles tried to strain forward and thrust his hips up, anything to entice Derek into going a little faster, but Derek threw a leg over his and wrapped his left arm around Stiles’ chest. He fought against it a little, just to feel the strength of Derek holding him down, and he practically sobbed with it. “Fuck, Der, I’m gonna—”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low as he nibbled on his earlobe and finally, _finally_ sped up his hand. “Come on, lemme see.”

Stiles dug his fingernails into Derek’s thigh—whoops—and groaned, slamming his eyes shut. It was whirling up inside him, fast, and he kept gasping when he realized that he was inadvertently holding his breath.

He finally came, racked with shuddering gasps as it washed over him, and he thrashed in Derek’s grip, enough so that he accidentally thunked his head against the wall.

“Ow,” he said a minute later, once he remembered what words were.

“Fuck,” Derek said, with a little chuckle. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, lifting one shaky arm to rub at the back of his head. “Oh, god. That was—”

“Yes?” Derek asked, and there was a little too much smugness in his tone for Stiles to ignore.

He twisted around, quick enough to catch Derek off-guard, and pushed him over onto his back, pinning him down with his hands on his shoulders. “What was that?” Stiles asked innocently, looking down pointedly at Derek’s half-hard dick. “Was someone fishing for compliments?”

Derek groaned, closing his eyes, and thrust up a little bit under Stiles’ weight. “It’s gonna be a long night.”


End file.
